Can't Get No Santa-faction
by Susanne Barringer
Summary: For Christmas, Mulder gets what he wanted, but not what he expected.


TITLE: Can't Get No Santa-faction  
AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer  
EMAIL: sbarringer@usa.net  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere else okay with these headers attached.   
CATEGORY: SR  
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance  
RATING: PG-13  
SPOILERS: Not a one  
SUMMARY: Holiday fluff. For Christmas, Mulder gets what he asked for, but not what he expected.   
DISCLAIMER: Usual.   


THANKS to Sue for pushing me to get this done in a timely manner. Otherwise, I'd be posting it in March. You know which part is for you. ;) 

______________ 

Can't Get No Santa-faction  
by Susanne Barringer 

I'm beginning to think I'm going to have to apologize to Scully for dragging her to the madness that is the mall two nights before Christmas. We're here at my insistence after a tip about some mysterious happenings and a man who looks like Santa Claus. We've got a composite sketch from some eye-witnesses I interviewed yesterday. Unfortunately, after two hours of questioning dozens of mall employees tonight, that's still all we have. I'm sure Scully is well past her limit of humoring me. 

We meet up again at the bench in front of Santa's North Pole, having gone our separate ways in order to cover the territory faster. The poor man playing Santa is still on duty, even though it's well past most kids' bedtimes now that the mall is open late for the holidays. 

Scully quietly takes a seat on the bench next to me, and we both watch Santa sitting waiting for the next child to arrive or, more likely, for the time when he can clock out. He waves a gloved hand at us, and Scully waves back in a way that touches my heart. Probably makes the guy's whole night to have someone like Scully smile and wave at him. 

The assistant elves, wearing skirts short enough to give those near- adolescent boys a little thrill, are sitting in their chairs looking exhausted. Tough job, I bet, dealing with screaming kids all day. 

For some reason Scully and I continue to sit. I'm sure she's working over the case in her mind before we leave. We've gotten nowhere tonight, and I'd bet she's about to give me a lecture that will inevitably include the phrase "wild goose chase." 

"It must be an interesting job to play Santa Claus," Scully remarks, reminding me once again that I can never accurately predict what's going on in that woman's head. "Especially watching the faces of the little kids who still believe in him." She sounds sad, almost like she misses the days when Christmas was all about innocence, and toys, and milk and cookies left overnight. 

"I bet you figured out there was no Santa when you were four, Scully. I can just see you calculating the speed of light, a billion homes, twenty-four hours. Nope, mathematically impossible. Therefore, no Santa." 

"And I bet you believed until you were twenty," she answers back, her face graced with a teasing smile as she turns to look at me. 

"I still believe," I say with a grin. "Otherwise we wouldn't be here looking for him." Scully shakes her head in amusement. "We should question the mall Santa." I gesture in his direction. "These Santa guys probably all know each other." 

"I'm surprised you haven't done that already. He's just as likely to have seen this man as anyone else. Or be him." Ah, well, she hasn't totally dismissed this as a goose chase yet. 

I'm pretty sure questioning Santa isn't going to yield anything substantial, but I do have an ulterior motive. Just a little fantasy that needs to be played out. "Scully, why don't you go sit on his lap to get your picture taken, and you can see what he knows. I'll question the elves." 

She looks at me like I'm crazy, not at all unusual but somehow more deadly at this particular moment. "Mulder, we're not undercover. Just go flash your badge and ask him what you want to know." 

"Then I won't get what I want for Christmas." 

"What?" She sounds wary, with good reason. 

"A picture of you with Santa. Really, Scully, that's my greatest wish." 

"Why in the world would you want a picture of me with Santa?" I can tell by the tone of her voice that she thinks I'm putting her on, when, in actuality, I'm quite serious. 

"I want a picture of you with something you actually once believed in. You have no idea how much that would just make my whole holiday complete." 

She rolls her eyes at me and looks appropriately exasperated at my insane suggestion. "Mulder, he's here for the kids, not for adults." 

"It's quarter to eleven, Scully, there's not a kid in sight. He's just waiting for someone to come sit on his lap, like any good dirty old man." I wonder how long I can push this before she walks away. 

"Don't speak about Santa that way, Mulder. It's sacrilegious. You'll end up with coal in your stocking." 

"Do it in the spirit of Christmas. I double dog dare you." If I can't get her to do it for me, I'll make it a challenge. 

She stifles a grin. "Double dog dare, Mulder? How old are you again?" 

"C'mon, Scully. Give the man a cheap thrill." 

"Are you saying I'm cheap?" The eyebrow launches the question. 

"Thrill, Scully. Didn't you hear me put the emphasis on 'thrill?' The man has had a whole day of runny noses and wet diapers. He deserves a moment or two of a beautiful woman whispering in his ear." She doesn't quite blush, but she looks at me curiously. Yes, I said beautiful, Scully. What's so weird about that? 

"Double dog dare, huh?" She gives Santa a wary look. He waves at her again and makes a little motion for her to come on over. Yeah, Santa, I know what you want. "What do I get if I do it?" she asks, not taking her glance from Dirty Old Santa. Could she actually be considering it? 

"I'll let you open your Christmas present early." Scully may be a strong, imposing woman, but put a gift in her hand and she fast becomes an impatient child. If there was any chance in hell of getting her to do this, presents would be the way. For the moment, I'm trying not to remember that I haven't actually gotten her anything yet. 

"Fine," she says with a huff. She stands and makes a beeline for Santa's North Pole. Geez, she's not actually going to do it, is she? 

Scully marches up to the entrance to the Santa line and weaves her way through the red and white striped tape to the platform where Santa sits. I figure she's probably just going to ask him about the suspect, so when she ends up plopped right down on his knee, I'm shocked, to say the least. I get up from the bench where we were sitting and make my way over to the elf who's risen to her place near the camera. I absolutely will not walk out of here without a photo to commemorate this event for all eternity. 

Scully and Santa have a nice long conversation, and I can't hear a single word of it. She says something to him and he ho-ho-hos, shaking like the cliche bowl full of jelly. I watch as Scully points at me, whispers something to Santa, then laughs shyly. I would like to think she just asked for me for Christmas, but another hearty ho-ho- ho from Santa makes me suspect that whatever she said about me wasn't quite so complimentary. 

The camera-elf motions that she's ready, so Scully presses her cheek to Santa's and smiles broadly as the flash goes off. It's going to be a great picture, exactly what I asked for. I fork over my ten dollars even as my stomach sinks at watching Scully chat it up with Santa. He looks a little too happy about her company, and she seems to be having a grand old time. 

Finally, she shows him the suspect's picture. Santa takes it and looks carefully, but I see him shake his head in the negative. Just what I expected. Scully stands up and Santa reaches beside him to grab a coloring book and small box of crayons, the reward for all good little boys and girls. Before he gives it to her, he takes one of the crayons and writes something inside the book. I watch as she shakes his hand, my jealousy finally abating enough for me to chastise myself for being so stupid. Jealous of Santa, what a joke. She was just being nice to him because I made her feel sorry for the guy. Spirit of Christmas and all that. 

I collect my hard-won photo and meet Scully at the bottom of the exit ramp. "Dirty old man, right?" I give her a little wink. 

"No, not old," she says rather seriously. "Fake beard, fake eyebrows, young eyes. In fact, he asked me out to dinner." She opens up the first page of the coloring book to reveal a phone number written in red crayon. 

"He didn't!" Okay, that was a development I did not expect. "That's disgusting, taking advantage of his position to hit on women. There has to be some kind of policy against that. We should report him." 

"You'll do no such thing, Mulder." She sounds annoyed with me, which maybe I deserve, but I can't believe she would fall for some womanizer in a Santa suit. 

"You're actually taking him seriously, Scully?" I can't help but laugh. His motives seem pretty damn clear to me. "He probably tries to pick up every woman over eighteen, or even younger. Who knows what kind of psycho he is." 

"Mulder, he seems like a perfectly normal guy. And funny too." She's walking fast, picking up the pace, which means she's getting angry with me. Somehow my whole Christmas wish is ruined--this isn't what I had in mind when I imagined a picture of Scully with Santa. 

"You're not actually going to call him!" 

"I don't know, maybe. He must be a pretty nice person if he spends his nights playing Santa, making kids happy." Her tone is curt, short. 

"Yeah, either that or he's a pervert." 

She gives me an annoyed look. "Cut it out, Mulder. You double dog dared me to do it. I did it. You've got no right to complain about it. So, I get my present now, right?" 

******* 

Scully's quiet in the car on the way back to my apartment. It's okay with me because I've got a bigger problem on my hands. She's coming back to my place to get her promised gift, which I don't have. Normally, that might not be a problem, but considering that she's pissed at me, I'm not exactly confident that she'll see the humor in all this. I never thought she'd take me seriously, and I'm not sure why she did. Maybe to give me the gift I asked for, maybe to prove a point, maybe to get her damn present that doesn't exist. Whatever the case, I'm screwed. 

We're not in my apartment two minutes before she asks. She doesn't want coffee, a soda, a beer, something to eat, time to freshen up, or to watch "It's a Wonderful Life." Trust me, I've tried to dawdle in every way possible. 

"My gift, Mulder?" The words of doom. 

I don't know why, but this doesn't seem to be the right moment to confess. I need to stall a little longer. I move to the desk and open a drawer, pulling out a small empty box. It's one of those white ones from the jewelry counter at department stores--probably not the best choice, but it's just a diversion tactic anyway until I can think of something I want to give her but haven't gotten around to buying yet. 

I walk back toward Scully and sit down on the sofa next to her; she turns so that we're facing each other. I hand her the box. I'm a dead man. 

I see a moment of surprise in the slight widening of her eyes. I know what she's thinking. It's a jewelry box, meaning, logically, that it probably has jewelry inside. She's wondering what it is and if I actually went and spent a lot of money on her. She can't hide the pleasure that rises in her cheeks. 

"I haven't wrapped it yet," I say, but my voice pretty much dies out by the last syllable. She gives the box a little shake next to her ear, but, no surprise to me, hears nothing. I am so dead. 

Scully flashes me a half-smile, then carefully lifts up the lid, her face full of expectation. She really is totally gorgeous when she's about to open a gift. I should give her presents more often, although I suppose it would be more effective if they were actually gifts and not air. She peeks inside the box and sees nothing, obviously, so she lifts up the cotton to look underneath. I watch as the half-smile and girlish eyes drop flat in confusion. 

"Mulder, there's nothing in here." She looks totally crestfallen, more than I thought she would. I guess I still held out hope that maybe she would laugh, think it was funny. I'm sure I just made the whole scenario worse by pretending I had something for her when I didn't. 

"Just my love?" I say on a whim, and I'm entirely surprised that it comes out as a question. I really do mean it, but she's not likely to take me seriously, especially when I sound like I'm just guessing. 

"It's a really small box," she says. She's peering inside the box, holding it at different angles as if trying to judge how much love it can hold, how much love I'm offering her. There's no lightness in her voice. Every now and then comes a moment when I totally cannot read Scully, when I can't interpret the small changes in her eyes or around her lips that clue me what she's thinking. Gods be cursed, this is one of those moments. Her words seem like a joke, but she looks like she might cry. 

"Mulder, if you don't have anything for me, just say so," she says, replacing the lid on the box and handing it back to me. "It's no big deal. I wasn't expecting anything." Now I'm positive she's entirely serious. Damn. 

"Scully, I . . ." Am I reading this right? Did I just break this woman's heart? "Scully, I meant what I just said. Before. What I want to give you can't fit in a box." 

She looks at me without expression, not a muscle moves. "And you called Santa a pervert." 

And then I see it, a little lifting of the corner of the lips, a little flash of the eyes. She's giving me a hard time, she's making me suffer. 

Suddenly the smile breaks free and I see the unreleased laughter drawn all over her face. I chuckle in response, but suddenly I really want to kiss her. It's a drive that far exceeds the usual adequacy of my self-control, a drive that I've felt this strongly only a handful of times since I've known her. "Funny, Scully, but you have no idea how close to the truth you are." 

She gives me that look, the one with the little eyebrow thing, followed by the pursing of the lips. I lean forward slightly, then a bit more. The message should be clear--I invade her space all the time, but never quite this invasive, and never when she's looking at me like that. 

"Merry Christmas, Scully." I search her still eyes, then push forward, stopping just a wisp away from her lips. She doesn't move away, and when I hear the shiver in her sigh, I know I've found my gift. 

I think she's the one who ends up making up that last little bit of difference between us because I'm actually shocked when I feel her lips against mine, no awareness of having done it myself. Shock gives way to total disbelief, then to a fabulous ribbon of heat through my body. A second passes, maybe two, and then she presses her mouth harder against me and her hand comes up to cradle my face. Her lips part mine slightly, just enough to show me that she's not simply humoring my spontaneous pass. When she pulls away, her mouth tugs at my lower lip, taking one last taste before cool air fills the distance between us. Her eyes are dark and wide, and her fingers brush once across my lips before she drops her arm to her side. 

I can't help but stare at her, swallowing her whole with my eyes. I thought she was beautiful before, but now I see something I haven't noticed before. She is stunning. 

She watches me look at her, the sweep of emotions crossing her face too fast for me to interpret, but the warm feeling inside me assures me that they are all good. 

"That's all I get?" she finally says. My head is still spinning, so I can only trust she's continuing to make me pay and isn't actually seriously disappointed. 

"There's more where that came from," I mumble, and I'm met by a broad grin and inviting eyes that send the heat racing toward my groin. 

"That's nice to know," she says softly. 

I feel utterly speechless, so I send the direction of conversation toward less serious ports. "So, Scully, what do *I* get for Christmas?" I can't believe we're even having a discussion so loaded with blatant suggestiveness, if there is such a thing. Innuendo I'm used to. Scully implying she wants to kiss me again is a totally new ball of wax. 

"You already got what you asked for." She reaches into my shirt pocket and pulls out the picture of her with that Santa Casanova. 

"A picture of you and your future husband?" I remark, trying to keep the tone light to cover up my adolescent jealousy. She laughs lightly, then slips the photo back into my pocket, resting her hand gently on my chest when she's done. 

"You didn't really think I was going to go out with him, did you?" She fiddles with a button on my shirt, her eyes looking up at me in a way that's playing havoc with that previously mentioned self- control. 

"Honestly? I wasn't totally sure. You looked pretty starry-eyed." 

"Mulder." She sounds frustrated, the words carried on a sigh. She removes her hand from my chest, much to my dismay, and leans back against the arm of the couch. "You're impossible." 

"I've been promoted from 'pervert' I take it?" 

"For tonight." The look she gives me could melt concrete. 

She leans forward again, her hand coming to rest on my upper arm, then stroking up and down. I really have no idea what to expect from her next. She's obviously okay with this kissing thing, but what does that mean? More? Tonight? Tomorrow? Next month? 

She ends the third degree I'm giving myself by leaning forward to kiss me again. She toys with me, planting small light kisses across my lips, not allowing me any more than just glimpses of her taste, her touch. Then she settles in, her mouth opening across mine, and she slides her tongue between my lips. The sensation is unexpected and dazzling. I wrap my hand in her hair, pulling her tighter against me and for some reason am surprised that she doesn't stop. For all the times tonight when I couldn't read her, this moment is crystal clear. 

She finally breaks away, my amazement echoed in her own sudden gasp when she opens her eyes to look at me. She rests her forehead against mine, and I can tell she's as breathless as I am. I work on calming my racing heart so I don't keel over right when we're finally finding our direction. 

When she leans back away from me, it's with a radiant smile. "I do have a present for you," she says, and I hear a roughness in her voice that I have never heard before. 

"Do I get it tonight?" I'm surprised to hear the same jagged tone from my own throat. 

She shakes her head. "Why don't you come over tomorrow and spend Christmas Eve with me, and I'll give it to you then?" 

I only nod at first, trying to understand what has happened to suddenly put a whole new spin on everything she says to me. "I'd like that." 

She rises to leave. Of course I'm disappointed, but I've loved every second of what's happened tonight, at least since we got to my apartment, and that leaves too much hope for the future to be displeased about this temporary end to all that's new with us. 

I follow her to the door, wondering if she's going to bless me with another one of those kisses tonight. Apparently not, for she opens the door and steps out into the hallway. Then, she turns around and takes a small step forward to stand in the doorway. Her hand comes to rest on the doorjamb as she leans forward a little before speaking. 

"That present I have for you?" Her voice is just above a whisper, and she looks down to watch her finger picking at some chipped paint on the door frame. "It doesn't come in a box either." She looks up to give me just the slightest of smiles, then turns and walks away. 

END 

_________ 

Just a little bit of fun. Happy Holidays! :)   
sbarringer@usa.net 

http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/2442 


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